Thirteen
by WakingUpInVegas
Summary: House tries to help Thirteen deal with her problems. REVIEWS please :
1. Chapter 1

I focused all my energy on trying to walk straight and plaster some type of expression on my face.

My head pounded and my body was sore from last night. I honestly can't remember what happened. I only know that I went to the bar and downed a few drinks and the rest was all just a blur.

I carefully walked into the entrance of the hospital and glanced at the time. _Shit_, I thought. I was almost an hour late.

As I rushed past the cafeteria, the smell of breakfast greeted my nose, and I felt like I could vomit.

When I reached the elevators, I changed my mind and chose to take the stairs. The motion of the elevator always made me feel extremely nauseous when I was hung over and I knew that I was capable of climbing a few flight of stairs.

I briskly walked down the hall, and towards House's office. I saw that everyone was gone, except for House. This wasn't going to be good.

I walked in, not looking at my boss and went into the conjoining room to drop off my jacket.

The familiar _clah-thump_ of his cane greeted my ears.

"You're late, _again_" He said with a disappointed tone. I couldn't think of anything to say, as my pounding head started to worsen.

"I know," I muttered, my back was still to him. I felt like a child who just got caught for something.

"At least face me when you're talking to me." His voice turned aggressive. I wasn't surprised, I've heard this tone numerous of times when he talked to Cuddy. I turned around to face him, but I avoided his gaze.

"Well?" He mocked.

"You're an ass." I commented.

"You're stoned."

"What? No I'm not" I lied, and looked at him. He seized my wrists, forcing me to look into his eyes.

"Then why would you're pupils be dilated in a bright room?" I didn't answer.

"And, you're hung over." He commented, his eyes searching over my face. He dropped his hold.

Then Kutner walked in with an omelet. _How ironic_. My stomach turned and I felt sick. House didn't miss my expression.

"See? You are." He proved.

"Here's your omelet," I heard Kutner pass off the plate to House, and leave the room. He obviously didn't want to be involved.

"Wanna bite, Thirteen?" He mocked.

"No," I almost chocked. The smell was nauseating.

"Go home. Don't come back until you're sober." I grabbed my jacket, and quickly left the room. _What an ass!_

I took the bus to work, as I misplaced my keys last night. The city busy wasn't due for another twenty minutes. I didn't live too far from the hospital; the fresh air should be good for me.

The weather was cold and my jacket was too thin to keep me warm. The un-shoveled sidewalk was inches deep and I struggled to walk. Also, to add to my displeasure; the sun's reflection on the snow wasn't helping my current condition.

An old beaten down white car slowly pulled up beside me, I ignored the vehicle and kept walking. The car followed, I noticed that the windows were tinted and I didn't recognize it. My heart pounded, in sync with my migraine.

"You idiot," House yelled from the car, "Walking around dressed like that in the winter like that and in your condition!" He continued. I blankly stared at him, stunned.

"What the hell, House? Why are you following me?" He stared me down.

"Get in," He growled. I did what I was told and went to the other side of the car. A pickup truck sped by, swerving into the slush; which and soaked my clothes. I gave the drive the finger.

The car was idle and House stared at me, making me even more annoyed at him. We sat there in silence.

"You weren't going home, were you?" He questioned.

"Yes, I was." I stared down at my boots that were wet from the slush.

"For one, your apartment is in the other direction and no one lives down this way. So you weren't visiting a friend of secret lover—"

"Are you serious? I can't believe that you're deciphering me." I glared at him.

"You're hung over and didn't drive yourself, which means: you're actually not a reckless idiot the night after, or you lost your keys. My bet is on the keys.

Also, if you were concerned about the shape you're in, or the blistering cold weather, you would have waited for the bus. And the way that your dressed literally screams, 'I may be a doctor, but who cares, I'm going to have hot steamy sex right after work."

My jaw dropped, I felt exploited.

"How…what…fuck, House! What the hell? Why do you care? Just stay out of my business!" I screamed at him and a small smile twisted upon his lips. I've had enough of his stupid games.

I pushed on the door handle, "Unlock it," I demanded at him.

"It can only be opened from the outside."

"Why don't you be a gentleman for once, and open it." Anger was building up.

"No can do, Daisy Dukes." He chanted. I folded my arms across my chest and he put the car into drive.

"Why…what…where are we going?"

"Road trip."

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A/N . **Review Review Review! **

***I'm still working on my other story--'It's Okay to tell a lie. '**


	2. Chapter 2

He drove around the city as if it was a Sunday drive. My arms were still crossed and I wasn't speaking to him. He tried to antagonize me with personal questions. We ended up downtown.

"Princeton's finest!" He exclaimed with a sarcastic coating. I rolled my eyes; this was pointless.

"Why are we here?"

House fake gasped. "The Ice Queen speaks!" I tried to match up to his mock with an ice stare. I wish he would grow up. "Did it just get cold in here?"

"House,"

"Fine, we're down here because I'm showing you the future you. _Wow, it sounds like he actually cares._

"What?" Why would he even think I would sink this low?

"I mean, I'm tired of seeing that annoying club stamp on the back of your hand," He pointed to my hand—sure enough, last nights stamp was faded on.

"Don't look at it…"  
"That's beside the point, you look frail and bony. You're extremely pale and the darkness under your eyes doesn't help. You're going to end up dead if you don't quit your antics."

Neither of us said anything, I knew he was right, but I didn't care. Nothing mattered anymore.

I looked out my window and saw a group of people in tattered clothes, huddled up around a garbage bin, probably a fire. A little girl sat at the wall looking lifeless. I thought for a moment maybe she was sleeping, but then she opened her eyes. Her face was shallow with barely any color. I swallowed hard; I don't want to be in this position.

"Can we go?" I said more of a demand than a question.

We pulled up to a diner. It was only eleven; I was feeling better but I don't think I could manage the smell of food yet.

House walked around to my side of the car and opened the car. He grabbed my arm, probably so I wouldn't run off. I sighed, even though he was a cripple, he could overpower me.

He walks pretty fast for having a limp.

"Got your wallet?" He gruffly asked.

"Yeah," I answered, knowing that means I'm paying for lunch.

We went in and a wave of breakfast aroma hit. _Great... _A young waitress showed us our table and placed down the menus. House ordered a coffee for himself and an orange juice for me.

"You need your vitamin C,"

"I am a doctor, you know." I snapped at him, barring my face in my hands. The waitress came back quickly with our beverages.

"Do you still need time to decide what you're having?" She placed our drinks on the table.

"No," I heard House say. I haven't looked at the menu. "Sausage and toast for me, and scrambled eggs for her," the waitress left with our menus. So far, my stomach has been able to keep the nausea to a minimum. I took a sip of my juice.

"How's the headache?" He asked.

"I'll manage." I replied feeling exhausted.

A while later, the waitress brought us our food and gave us an annoying smile. The smell of breakfast made my already churning stomach feel like it was going to erupt.

"I'll be back," I abruptly informed him and made my way to the bathroom. I ran through the door and luckily no one was in the room.

I rejoined House at the table and noticed that our food was gone,

"I got it to go instead." I nodded.

I paid for the meal—House apparently forgot his wallet, and we were back on the road.

"Where are we going?" I asked groggily.

"You're going home; I'm going back to work."

"Right," We spoke no more until we reached my apartment. He helped me out of the car and into the building, "I can do it myself," I shrugged away from him and disappeared into the elevator.

***Sorry if I disappointed you with the 'road trip'. **

**REVIEW PLEASE :)**


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